


The Case of Veronica

by Taybug1997



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Post-The Sign of Three
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-30
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-20 07:51:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3642465
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taybug1997/pseuds/Taybug1997





	1. 1

I twirled my finger around my belt loop, waiting impatiently for someone. You see, I was unsure of who this someone was. I just know that this person was to give me my next task. The brick wall was starting to warm up with my body heat, but the concrete was still layered in icy water, seeping through my dark boots. 

I noticed a man in the distance, in a heavy coat and beanie. His hands were in his pockets. I reached into my own, my hand on the revolver in my coat. He walked closer, and closer, until he was right in front of me.

 "You Veronica?" he mumbled, his cigar breath washing over my face.

 "Roni," I replied. He chuckled, then held out a piece of paper.

 "This is yours, kid, don't let him down." I took the piece of paper from his hand with my free one. He looked both ways then ran. I unfolded the piece of paper and glanced at it. 

_221B Baker St_

_1300_

_You will find out more then._

_M_

 I memorized the address and crumbled the paper up, placing it in my pocket. I checked my watch, and saw I had two hours to get there. 

 After I paid the cabbie, I walked and waited by the door. One hour down, one to go. I paced back and forth down the street, then I waited under the overhang. Five minutes before I was supposed to meet someone, an older lady came up to me.

 "Sweetie, are you waiting for someone?" she asked in a kind voice.

 "Uh, yeah, should be here any minute now," I replied, glancing around the street.

 She dropped her voice to a whisper. "His name is Sherlock Holmes. You must get him to trust you. More will be explained later." Then she smiled. "Well, I hope your someone finds you soon." She turned around and walked away, balancing on all three legs carefully. 

 I was unsure why all these descriptions were vague. Usually I am given something at least slightly more descriptive. There must be a reason why I am in the dark.

 I knocked on the door and tried to remember the familiar name. The door cracked open, and another old lady was on the other side.

 "Hello dear, may I help you?"

 "Um, yes, I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes. Is he in?" 

 "He should be home soon. Why don't you come in? You have to be freezing out there!" she opened the door wider to let me in.

 "Thank you, ma'am. Mind if I ask your name?"

 "Oh, you can call me Mrs. Hudson, dear. I'll pour you a cuppa. What's your name?"

 I decided to lie about my name. "Marissa Brook."

 "Lovely to meet you, Marissa." She left and came back with a cup of tea, which she gave to me. "I assume you have a case. Hope it's interesting, Sherlock gets bored very easily." Then it clicked. Sherlock Holmes, the detective. 

 "Actually, I am writing a paper on him. You see, I'm a student at the University of London, and we have to write this paper on a profession, and since I am very interested in his detective work, I was hoping that Mr. Holmes would be able to give me some advice."

 "Advice on what?" a deep voice asked behind me. "Mrs. Hudson, who is this girl?"

 "My name is Marissa, Mr. Holmes. It's an honor to meet you," I said, standing up and reaching my hand to shake his. I looked over at Mrs. Hudson, who mouthed "good luck" to me. Sherlock rolled his eyes and went up the stairs. 

 "Marissa, go ahead and walk up there. His bark is worse than his bite." I thanked her and followed Sherlock up the stairs. 

 "What do you want?" Sherlock asked as I entered his flat. It was a mess, and there was a stench in the air, which I dared not to question. He laid on a chair, his hands folded in front of his face. "Any day now would be fantastic."

 "Um, sorry. I'm a student from-"

 "No you're not. You used to be a student. Now you virtually live on the streets, sleeping with men from time to time to earn a pound or two."

 I stood there, frozen. I was unsure of how to respond to his deduction. 

 "If you are just going to stand there with your mouth hanging open, then you may go now."

 "How did you figure that out?" I coughed as I walked over and stood by a wooden chair. He motioned for me to sit down.

 "Your hair has not been washed in at least two weeks. Your clothes are soaked with water but there are still traces of stains in them. Your shirt has multiple holes on the left side, and your jeans are barely hanging on your hips. You have acquired a revolver to use in case of an attack, which suggests you live in a dangerous area. What do you want from me next?"

 "Okay, you got me. But Mr. Holmes-"

 "Sherlock."

 "Sherlock, I am genuinely interested in your work. Please, let me ask you a few questions."

 "Anything you need to know from me can be found on John's blog. Although he does tend to romanticize everything. Nothing is ever that well-done."

 "But I want to hear them from you." I stood up from the chair and walked closer. "Sherlock, I want to know. Everything. Everything about your work." I learned forward and caressed his arm. He snorted.

 "Any attempt to seduce me will fail. But I will give you some information about my process."

 "Really?"

 "Sit down before I change my mind, Marissa." 

 I sat there in the wooden chair, leaning forward to show interest. He talked for hours about how he learned to decipher codes and find clues and about tobacco ash. By the time I had to go, the clouds turned from gray to black. The moon was invisible to the world.


	2. 2

"Ah, you're finally here!" his once soothing voice snarled as I entered the room.

"Sir, you know him better than I do. You knew he would brag about his abilities all night," I stated coldly. 

"Time's a-ticking. No worry, dear, do you think he trusts you yet?" 

"Relax, sir, I just met him today. It will likely take a while longer."

"Veronica, you do know about recent events, do you not?" He raised his eyebrow. "His former flat mate has gone off with a wife. He is alone and in need of a friend. Despite the fact that he claims that he has no heart, he does, it is just burnt out, and looking for someone to soothe the pain."

"I am not sleeping with him."

"No, no, my dear, just...  _befriend_ him. You see, he is not that complex. Give him a glass slipper, and then wait for the clock to toll. Once he invites you on a case, the cat has caught its prey." He stood up and walked over to me. "Veronica, I can trust you to be the cat, right?"

"Yes sir." I brought my hand up to hold my other arm. 

James Moriarty looked at me with his brown eyes. "Very well. I expect that you will be successful by the end of the week, or else there will be consequences!" His voice rose in pitch at the end as he turned away, walking out the large, wooden door. It slammed shut with a blaring echo, and I was left there, trembling. 

 

The next day I walked back up to Baker Street, then knocked on the door. Mrs. Hudson answered again and let me in.

"Nice to see you again, but he is still asleep, so I suggest you be quiet."

"Oh. No worries, I'll be in stealth mode." I pulled my hood over my eyes, put my hands in my pockets, then scrunched forward. Mrs. Hudson chuckled.

"Thank you, you're exactly what Sherlock needs," she uttered.

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You're fun and interested in him. After John left with Mary, he has been more depressed than usual. I haven't seen him this down since before he met John. I am almost certain he is going back on the drugs."

"Oh." I did not know what to say.

"I apologize, darling, I probably should not have said that. You can head up there. Would you mind bringing this tea up there? I always give him morning tea, but my hip has been bothering me so much lately."

"Sure thing." I grabbed the platter from the table.

"Thank you, sweetheart."

"No problem." I carried the platter up the stairs and pushed the door open. I left it on the counter in the kitchen, and stared at the mess in his flat. "How does he live in this?"

 

I had organized one of his shelves when he finally came in the room. He was wearing a red dressing gown, and did not seem to notice me.

"Sherlock?" I asked. He waved his hand at me then laid on the couch. I walked over and sat on the chair next to the sofa, and watched. His hands were folded in front of his face, like yesterday, and his grey eyes were staring at a spot in the ceiling. "Sherlock, you okay?" No response. I grabbed one of the smaller books from his pile on the floor and placed it on his stomach. No response. I stacked another book on top. And another. And another.

I could not stop myself from snickering as he still did not respond to the pile, which consisted of ten books, a pillow, and a board game. I was about to place a pen on top when he finally jumped up, making everything fall. 

"John, it was Amy's sister, Jane. Jane did not hate Amy's husband; she was jealous. You see, Jane and Rory had a fling back when they were students, but when Amy came in to the picture, it ended immediately. Jane never had the heart to reveal it to Amy, but when all that anger piled up over the years- where's John?"

"Not here. Tell me more." I had to cover my mouth from laughing at the pile of junk that was down on the floor. He glanced down, then huffed.

"I hope that you enjoyed that endeavor to get my attention."

"Very much."

"Okay, now you may go."

"Why?"

"Guests are coming over soon."

"I want to meet them." I sat back in the chair and crossed my legs. Sherlock stared at me, annoyed. 

"Out, please."

"No."

His tone turned aggressive. "Get out,  _now_." 

But it was too late. There was a knock on the door. I heard Sherlock swear under his breath.

"Fine, stay." He walked to the door and opened it. "Come in, please, John and Mary."

They walked in. The first was a man of former military service with the slight presence of a limp. The next was a blonde pregnant woman, whose face was away from me.

"Sherlock, who is this?" the man, who I presumed was John, asked.

"Just a girl who has been observing me for a class at her university." I smiled at John and shook his hand.

"My name is Marissa, nice to meet you. I assume you're John?"

"Yes, Sherlock has told you about me?"

"I've heard a lot and you must be-," I froze mid-sentence when I finally saw her face. It took her only a second to recognize me, as seen by the slight widening of her eyes. I composed myself as she walked over.

"Mary. Kind of new to the group, so don't worry, I'm not offended." She shook my hand and turned away immediately, sitting on the couch by John. 


	3. 3

"So, Marissa, what are you observing Sherlock for?" John asked me. I straightened my back.

"You see, I want to go in to forensics, and I hear that Sherlock is pretty much the expert at being a detective," I began. Sherlock smirked slightly. "And I figured, 'Hey, why not see if the world's only consulting detective would be able to help me?' So now here I am. I did not know he was having company though, so I can go if you'd like."

"Go ahead and stay, you're already here. Are we all comfortable now?" Sherlock said, irked. 

"Is something wrong?" the woman who called herself Mary asked. 

"No, no, not at all." He sat in the chair opposite of me, laying backward. "I see you've put on five pounds, John."

"Only three!" John exclaimed. Mary laughed.

"Five, dear." She leaned in to him. John grumbled and then leaned his head on Mary's.

"I assume that the honeymoon went well, then?" Sherlock asked. 

"It was wonderful. You should have seen the beaches, oh my it was magnificent," Mary said. "There were blue-"

"Nice to know."

"Sherlock, you alright?" John asked. 

"Of course I'm fine. I know where you guys went, there is no need for me to know the details."

John looked down awkwardly, staring at his fingers. 

"Well, what have you been up to?" Mary asked. I could sense slight fear in her tone.

"Oh, the usual. Just working on cases. Speaking of, you would be delighted to hear my most recent adventure. You see, this man was last seen in a bank, then he disappeared. One week later, he was found dead right in front of the bank. No visible wounds. He had recently-"

"Sherlock." John glared at him.

"What?"

"I know you're a detective."

"You were once so interested in my work." Sherlock's eyes dropped.

"Sherlock, that is not what I meant. I meant that you disregarded what we wanted to tell you, but then you go talk about your life. Doesn't that seem self-centered?"

"I don't know, does it?" Sherlock asked bluntly. That was when I realized Sherlock was not so heartless. He did care. He just did not want to show it. John stood up angrily.

"I've had it with this. Come on, Mary."

"Guys, we can surely talk this out," I said. John shook his head.

"It's like talking to a brick wall with him. We're leaving." John grabbed Mary's hand, and they walked out, slamming the door behind them. Sherlock sank back in to his chair. 

"Sherlock, tell me about the case," I said, unsure of how to comfort him. He shook his head.

"Just go. Please."

"Okay," I said. I walked up and kissed his forehead, then left the room.

 

"How did things go, Veronica?" James asked when I entered the room. I shook my head.

"Not well. Sherlock and John got in a fight. Well, almost did. John left when it began escalating." I thought about telling him about the wife. 

"Do you think Sherlock trusts you? That's the one detail of the landscape we are painting that you need to focus on."

"Look, I'll try harder. But he made me leave. What should I do?"

"Anything. It is paramount that you secure his trust. And soon."

"I'll try my best."

"Then try harder than your best!" He glared at me, his lower jaw jutting forward.

"Yes sir," I mumbled before turning to run out the room.

 

The next day I went to the library to use a computer. I sat in the chair and waited as the computer slowly booted. When it finally did, I opened Google. I began searching.

_Mary Watson_

A recent announcement had come up about the wedding. I skimmed the story until I saw the name Mary Morstan. I searched that name up.

The results were all on the wedding or her social network pages. I kept going until I found a link to a news site. It led to a list of obituaries. I looked up the birthdate I found on "Mary's" Facebook earlier.

_Due to complications in her mother's pregnancy, Mary Morstan was stillborn. She will be buried at Chiswick Cemetery this Saturday, October 29th._

 

After I ate some lunch, I went to the cemetery. I searched until I found the gravestone with Mary Morstan's name. I grabbed my phone and took a photo of the stone, then left a flower. 


	4. 4

"So you did recognize me?" her soft voice whispered behind me. I turned and saw her face, only a foot away. I felt a yearning for the brown haired woman I once knew.

"Amanda," I mumbled. "How did you know I'd be here?"

She smirked. "I've known you long enough to know it wouldn't have taken you too long to connect the dots. You have your father's mind."

"So they say. What are you doing here in Europe?"

"I did not think any one would remember me."

"It's only been ten years. And you were the best sniper my dad ever had."

Her smile fell. "I wanted to be dead to him. I was hoping that I hid well enough."

"And now that I know you're alive, you have to go again."

"Unfortunately so."

"But why?" I asked. "Why did you come back?"

Her eyes dropped, and I saw the woman who took care of me when my father could not. "I did not like America as much as I hoped I would."

"You got tired of greasy, obese men, so you decided to come back?"

She chuckled in response. "It wasn't just that, but, I don't know. I guess I prefer life here. And I figured I'd been gone long enough, so I bleached my hair and hoped that I would not be recognized."

"Amanda, how did you get involved with John?"

She smiled. "That's a story for another time."

"So I will be seeing more of you, Amanda?"

"I go by Mary now, but yes, you will be seeing me again, I imagine. Now I have to go. If I'm not wrong, John will probably be on his way home now." She took a step, then hesitated. "Good bye, Veronica."

"Good bye, Amanda." She gave a sad smile, then turned and left.

 

I walked in to Sherlock's flat to see him pushing a chair. "Spring cleaning?" I joked. He gave no acknowledgement of my presence. "Mrs. Hudson gave me some biscuits, want one?" He continued to ignore me, so I sat on the sofa and grabbed one of the books from the pile on the table.

"Want to go on a case with me?" Sherlock's voice interrupted my zone. I looked up.

"Sorry?"

"A real case."

"With blood?"

"And deaths."

"I'm in." I hopped up and grabbed my bag. He gave a side-smirk and pulled his scarf off of a hook.

"Come on, Marissa. And don't be slow." He was down the stairs before I could even take more than a few steps. When I reached the bottom, I had to run and jump in to the cab before it sped off. Sherlock gave an address to the driver and then remained quiet for the rest of the trip. When we reached our destination, he paid the cabbie and escorted me out. He led me to the scene.

He lifted the yellow tape for me to go under. A dark-skinned woman stopped him. 

"Who is this?" she asked.

"Marissa this is Sargent Donovan."

"Pleasure to meet you," I said, raising my hand to shake hers.

She scoffed. "You're not supposed to be bringing friends to the scene. You shouldn't even be here yourself."

"Well I was invited. Come on, Marissa." He walked off, Sargent Donovan sneering after him. I apologized and then chased after Sherlock.

"She doesn't seem to like you," I remarked once I caught up to him. He laughed.

"Known her for years, she never liked me. Ah, Lestrade!"

"Sherlock! Great to see you. Uh, who is this?" he asked, gesturing me.

"Marissa," I say, shaking his hand. "Nice to meet you."

"Lestrade. You a colleague of his?"

"Yes," I said at the same time Sherlock said, "Friend." I smiled a bit.

"Ah, well, wonderful to meet you. Sherlock, you're going to enjoy this one." He lifted up the sheet to reveal a mauled body. Sherlock bent down and started examining the body.

"Victim is a young male, approximately twenty-five years old," Sherlock began. Lestrade turned to me.

"So, why are you here?" he asked.

"Well, I am a college student. At least going to be," I began.

"Suspect is left-handed," Sherlock said.

"I am interested in crime and detective work and that general area, so when I heard about Sherlock Holmes-"

"The slit throat was made after he died. The scratches are in groups of four parallel lines, suggesting they were caused by an animal."

"-I thought I would ask him to help give me some insight in the subject." I smiled.

"Well, good luck with that," Lestrade told me.

"Why is that?" I asked.

"He is an alcoholic, and has recently been in a bar fight. Married unhappily, and abusive."

"Well, you see, he isn't much of a talker," Lestrade said. "He is difficult to communicate with and can not listen to a single word you say."

"He listened to me," I said. Lestrade laughed.

"The only reason his wife did not leave him was because they had a three year old child together," Sherlock continued.

"That's a first, how long have you known him for?" Lestrade asked.

"Oh, only a few days," I admitted.

"That's remarkable!" Lestrade and Sherlock exclaimed at the same time. Lestrade turned to Sherlock. "What is it?"

"Look at the knife, I can guarantee that the brother's fingerprints will be found on the blade. See if the brother has a German Shepard. If so, he is the murderer. Too easy, sorry for the disappointment Marissa."

"No it's fine, that was amazing," I said enthusiastically. He smiled.

"I thought you might say that. Now, I know this Chinese place that we can go to for dinner."

"Sherlock," Lestrade asked. "If the brother does not own the dog?"

"Oh, then the wife did it." Sherlock smirked as he turned and walked back to the main road. Lestrade looked at me.

"You see what I mean?" he said. I nodded. He laughed and walked away. 


End file.
